Three Hundred Years Gone
by NickeltheRed
Summary: Everyone in town seemed to vaguely know the legend of Thackery Binx. Although what was his shadowed life truly like as a feline for century after century?— A more detailed story of his curse, and how he spent his days, until the very night when it's up to him and the others to save Dani's future.


**Story belongs to Disney.**

**Reviews are welcomed. And thanks for the time!**

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Wrath was indeed one lethal sin to bear. Alas, I merely sought revenge all the same.

But my three targets had already been sentenced to hang for the discovery of their outlawed practices and treason by my own remaining kin. And yet somehow, that very fact only caused me to feel especially worse than before. It pained me to acknowledge that they could not recognize my presence, could not see my face under my new unwanted mask, and could not hear my cries beyond the yowls which emitted from my mouth. (The village regarded my image as an omen bringing them poor fortune. Surely a fiend like me showing up at the witches' gravesite just had to be one of their Familiars.)

So, unknownst to Salem's colony, I was forced to watch them die out as well from afar, one by one. Good Lord, how I _wished_ that I could have given anything and everything to meet my parents once more in person, to know that they had forgiven me since I'd failed to defend my sister's life.

Really, a fragile life that would be eventually terminated by a harsh ending sounded like a genuine fantasy, compared to an eternal life such as mine when a natural passing from this world was perfectly and unconditionally out of reach.

And oh, did I try to touch the handle of Death's Door ever to no avail...

Many of my first few days—first few years, even—were spent calculating suicide missions. From plummeting from rugged cliffs to aggravating a grumpy fox strolling nearby, I tested out all the possibilities. And as _horrid_ as it may had seemed, I was plainly desperate to escape my curse. Although at the end of every day, life somehow still clung to me as if it was the Plague in disguise.

I, however, had finally decided to just accept what was, just was, for it was clear that the magic had the upper hand in this circumstance.

Therefore, instead of wallowing about the surrounding lonely forestlands, I put my long hours to more proper use. I became beneficial to the local naive families within reason. I solely believed that my curse was absolutely one tragedy too many. There was no need for further supernatural mishaps to occur—

I had rightfully claimed the Witch Cabin my territory and never once had I tolerated any sort of dimwitted or careless company to stray this way.

Following a number of fanged hisses and clawing swipes of warning aimed at those who challenged my laws, the point was finally made clear: do not trespass here! Fresh rumors of my whereabouts began to cycle and alternate among the young people over and over. Every now and then my inner curiosity persuaded me to trail a crowd of wondering adolescents. I leapt branch to branch, using the leaves as my cloak so I could listen in on their imaginative gossip... Could I have been the Binx boy who disappeared without a single trace upon that fateful All Hallows night? Some assumed so, but none of them were quite valiant enough to venture all the way back to prove it. And after a while, rather ironically, my title ranged from a simple groundskeeper to an aggressive, rabid little beast who should have been kept away from innocent small children.

Loneliness became such a bitter friend, but I considered it an opportunity too. It granted me the privacy I desired to study my absent foes. Granted that my generation was brought up to be more aware of black magic lurking around us. But in reality, all of the tips of caution the town Elders had presented to us about real witches were essentially based on scattered oral myths carried from the older cities found across the seas— I in comparison, had gained generous amounts of time to slink throughout the Witch Cabin to gather additional information kept in secret places, to examine their personal possessions, and to paw at and recite over crucial captions from their invocation journals, until I literally converted myself into a living _Sanderson Witch Encyclopedia_.

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But still in spite of everything, seasons came and those seasons went without mercy, and by now my life started to feel incredibly hollow again. My anxious yearning had steadily distorted into absolute sorrow, triggering my small beating heart to pour out everything it'd been harboring in so tightly, up till I wasn't left with anything but temperamental indifference.

Honestly, there were days when I _had_ felt more creature than human.

So much time had truly flickered before my sharp eyes though that I actually lost total track of it sometimes. The day, the date, the month, all blended together in one massive hazy, anonymous shape. The outside world sustained to expand itself, the quantities of immigrants continued to increase, and the old-fashioned simple customs ultimately vanished behind the veil of what they called "modern technology."

Then one day, the Witch Cabin was rediscovered, revived, and had been altered into a gallery that was open for the last week of the Harvest. I personally despised the idea. Petty mortals; no good would come from it. I had become determined as ever to gain control over my post. And thanks to my phantomlike nature, being able to dash to and fro without getting caught, I succeeded in convincing the head supervisor the place was haunted by spooks and certainly was not suitable for the public.

Nevertheless upon this current All Hollow's Eve, things suddenly took a dramatic turn as it happened. The Black Flame Candle, sacred to all things dark, had been ignited at last, by yet another skeptical airhead.

What was more, exactly when the witch sisters were summoned, their magical force seemed to spread from all ends in thick thriving waves. And in the midst of it all, I somehow had received my mortal sound again.

"Nice going, _Max_._"_ That was my first sarcastic comment I managed to let out in centuries.

And just when it seemed everything I worked for had been totally wasted—the heated sensation had lifted the very moment the young girl, called Dani, smiled in my direction.

She reminded me a great deal of my mistake, and I understood at that point these people were sent to me for a definite purpose. That in fact, this night could very well be the night when I could redeem myself from my history if I made certain Dani would survive to see the next sunrise.

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**It's so awful how much I am already thinking of All Souls Night so early...oh well, haha. Couldn't wait that long to post this.**


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